Coach Bud walked down to the end of the bench. “Kris. Kris! Hey, get ready to check in!”
Kris Humphries did not react to his coach’s words in any way. He sat statuelike on the bench, blankly gazing forward. Play continued in front of him, but his eyes did not follow the action; instead, they were fixed at some point in the far distance. Or, more likely, they were fixed on nothing at all.
“Is Kris okay?” Bud asked of Mike Scott, who was seated next to the catatonic Kris.
“He gets like this sometimes,” Mike answered with a shrug. “He’s just thinking about Kim Kardashian’s ass is all.” Mike waved his hand in front of his teammate’s face. “Yep. The only thing those eyes are seeing right now is the vision of two jiggling butt cheeks.”
“Can you wake up him up?” Bud asked. “We’re kinda getting blown out and I want to get him some minutes.”
Mike tried to push Kris to his feet, but the ex-Kardashian was nearly immovable. “When he gets like this, you pretty much just have to wait until he snaps out of it. That could be hours though. He loves that ass, you know.”
Coach Bud looked exasperated. “Apparently.” Suddenly, it appeared that he had an idea. He knelt in front of Kris’ face and yelled, “Kris! Kris! Kim’s waiting for you in the locker room after the game, but she says she’ll only see you if you score ten points!”
After a period of silence where it was unclear whether this tactic would succeed, Kris slowly whirred to life. His face remained emotionless, and his eyes were still locked in the forward position, but he mechanically walked over to the scorer’s table and took off his warm-up. There he stood, utterly motionless and hardly seeming to even breathe, until there was an opportunity for a substitution.
“Good idea, coach,” Mike said as the game progressed. “But why didn’t you tell him to score fifty? Maybe we coulda won this damn game.”